


The Bird And The Worm

by Hambone



Category: Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Victory!
Genre: Dom/sub, Fantasizing, Keeping Quiet, M/M, Masturbation, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, pillow humping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 08:49:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3203141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambone/pseuds/Hambone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hellbat knows his Commander thinks he's lower than dirt and he revels in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bird And The Worm

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quickie. Enjoy~!

_“Commander.”_

Hellbat rolled from side to side in his berth, humming quietly as he tried to calm the fluttering in his spark enough to recharge. He knew that if he wriggled too much Killbison would throw things at him again, but it was so hard to stifle his enthusiasm sometimes.  Especially after today, when Leozack had looked so beautiful when he was stomping Blacker or Braver or Laster or whichever one of those Autobots it was under his heel.

Of course, they had lost anyways, but Leozack had been just as handsome when calling the retreat.

Flopping onto his stomach, Hellbat peeked over his pillow to the separate bunk where Killbison was snoozing. His snores had deepened into their calmer state, meaning he was most definitely out and not faking it. A little pang of naughtiness wriggled through his stomach, making him leer silently at Killbison’s twitching fingers.

Still watching his bunkmate, Hellbat shuffled his hips backwards and upwards, reaching down between his legs as quietly as he could. He was surprisingly good at it, despite what others might say, and he caressed his inner thighs without more than the whisper of metal on metal. When no reactions, negative or otherwise, were drawn from across the room, he became bolder, letting his thoughts sink back down along with his hand.

His commander, Commander Leozack, so cruel and proud and ruthless. Hellbat allowed himself the image of Leozack standing above him as he had many times before, sneering down his sharp nose as he crushed his boot into Hellbat’s bare chest, Komoribreast watching from the sidelines. The thought made another rush of sensation tickle through his belly and he nearly jumped when his spike pressurized audibly behind its paneling. He froze, optics focusing back up to ensure he was safe. Killbison made a low, guttural noise and continued to sleep.

Anxious to continue but wary, Hellbat let his interface panel slide back, wincing as the clicks it produced echoed against the close walls. It felt good though, his spike pressing up tightly to his stomach as he awkwardly pushed his knees back, trying to reach under himself without exposing too much. If Killbison was going to wake up and catch him getting off it was at least going to be with enough covered that there could be no possible blackmail pulled from his memory banks if it came to that. Honestly Hellbat didn’t suspect Killbison to be intelligent or crafty enough to consider that, but it was always a risk. A risk Leozack would have been prepared for.

Sinking down a bit, Hellbat moaned happily, pressing his chin into one of his pillows as he traced a finger down the length of his spike to gently swirl around his external node. He wanted Leozack to step on him again. He wanted to feel his strong stabilizing servo crush into his back and aft and neck, hold him down and make him worship it with all his spark had to offer. Leozack had called him a worm earlier for failing at distracting the enemy forces. He tried to explain that he wasn’t good at that, that he was really specialized in being sneaky, but Leozack had none of it and pushed his face in the dirt until he apologized enough to appease him.

The memory made him so horny he felt light headed. He pushed into his hand a little harder than he’d intended, crossing his legs to maximize the pressure on his valve.

Killbison grunted, shifting.

If he wasn’t so far into it Hellbat would probably have stopped there. He had woken his various bunkmates up a myriad of times before, the reasons for which were varied and never good, and it resulted in him being shifted from every member of the Breastforce but Leozack who always slept alone. Killbison was probably worse than Jallguar about being woken up, and Jallguar nearly made Hellbat eat his own finger once as punishment for flipping him off. Maybe it had been a joke, but he was so intimidating that Hellbat had started crying, and then Leozack had intervened by telling them both to stop screwing around and that Jallguar was wasting his time anyways because Hellbat didn’t have a mouth. That wasn’t actually true but it sweetened the moment for Hellbat to know that Leozack had been looking at his face at some point enough to notice that he wore a mask.

Remembering that had him squirming uncomfortably, wishing the sound of metal against metal was quieter. Killbison didn’t appear to have woken up but if he kept clanking around on his crotch components he certainly would. He buried his face in his pillow, whining in frustration.

Then he pulled back.

“What an idiot I am!”

Then he flinched again as Killbison snorted. It was a recharge snort though, not a laugh snort, and he continued to move, albeit carefully. Shifting one of his pillows down under his chest, he slid it between his legs and squeezed.

Mentally he repeated the same sentiment as before, but replaced the word _idiot_ with _genius_. It was such a sudden influx of pleasure that he squeaked out loud, shuddering excitedly as a little maneuvering had it rubbing both against his spike and the lips of his valve. He pressed his legs together, shaking a bit as just that small touch alone made him buck in place. Hellbat pushed his face down into the berth, hands safely beside his face, and began to rock his hips gently into the soft cushion. It was such a gentle sensation, in stark contrast to the usual heavy palming of himself he pulled off in the wash racks or communication deck or the air vents when Deathsaurus sent him to fix the fans but they were never really broken and some Earth junk had just gotten stuck in them but he could pretend he was working on it for an hour and get away with some heavy self-servicing-

Hellbat moaned a little louder than he meant to, thrusting down against the pillow so that it ran smoothly across the head of his spike and his nub simultaneously. Of course Leozack would never be so giving in his pleasures, but Hellbat could take care of that. His poor, poor commander always was overworking himself. He was better off laying back and accepting Hellbat’s love, for what little it was worth, a _worm_ like himself. Oh, but how proud his commander might be if he could make himself useful that way, overloading him without all the stress and work of commanding his team as he did. Hellbat could take care of that too, he thought sometimes, for as wonderful as Leozack was, as handsome and strong, he was too pure for that kind of grunge work. Hellbat would get between him and Deathsaurus, get between him and battle, as long as he so wished.

Just to be with Leozack would be enough though, for the time being.  Just to hear Leozack ordering him around another day would be bliss, to hear him snarl as he forced Hellbat’s helm down to pay his respects. Hellbat hummed happily at the thought of having his face pushed in the dirt again, Leozack squatting over him with his lips pulled back distastefully, fangs gleaming. How he would be admonished for being such a disgusting creature, here in his bunk, in a shared room no less, humping away at a pillow because he couldn’t contain his desire for someone so above his ranking _. So filthy._

He arched his back, rutting into the curve of the pillow. It was beginning to get pretty wet with his lubricant and was making a slick squish every time he made hard contact, but it was nothing he thought would disturb Killbison and he was a little too into it now to stop. His spike pressed hard against him stomach, so overly aroused, hot throbs channeling through the circuitry between it and his valve, which cycled down hungrily on air. He was close, so close already. What would commander Leozack say?

“ _C-Commander, perfect, pretty Commander_ ,” he purred, stroking the sheets as if they were Leozack’s boot. Komoribreast was stirring slightly on his chest, not at all displeased by the pleasurable zings shooting between their symbiotic bond. Hellbat clawed at the berth, pretending Leozack was aggressing him just like he did on a daily basis. Demeaning, he would call him useless, cruel, he would call him a fool, cold, he would snarl between pursed lips about his faults, genuinely furious, potentially the hottest mixture Hellbat could imagine.

He felt his overload coming and launched into it wholeheartedly, pistoning his hips until his spike burned from the friction. It was wet and messy, the kind of overload that felt amazing during the act and then regrettable during the cleanup. Thick streams of transfluid pumped across the pillow and his stomach, his valve squeezing desperately, calipers taught. It took only a klik to pass through him fully but it felt like a whole cycle. Just a thought could reduce him to nothing.

Still glued to the berth by exhaustion, Hellbat fluttered his wings, extraordinarily pleased. His wonderful commander. If he wasn’t so uncomfortable as the fluids began to cool beneath him he could have fallen back into recharge in the warm arms of his fantasy. Of course, to hold Leozack in such a way was such a wickedly unrealistic fantasy. He had the bearing of a queen and as such would never be taken so easily, degraded by accepting such furious adoration as Hellbat’s.

Still, nothing good ever came to those who didn’t try. If there was one good thing that could be said for Hellbat it was that he threw himself into everything with real tenacity.


End file.
